


I Can't Be There

by ofnopesandwhyatts



Series: Tiva Fic Writing Challenge [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Tiva fic writing challenge, this shit is from october
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22330138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofnopesandwhyatts/pseuds/ofnopesandwhyatts
Summary: Tony looks at a photograph and imagines he was there when it was taken.Written for the Tiva Fic Writing Challenge. If you are interested HMU at tumblr.com/loveladiesandmemes
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Series: Tiva Fic Writing Challenge [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607356
Kudos: 15





	I Can't Be There

Most people would keep it in a frame. Or a scrapbook, more likely.

He kept it in the nightstand drawer, secured by a small velvet box, next to her scarf.

It was digitized immediately, so he didn’t worry about the damage inflicted when he took it between his thumbs. He didn’t hesitate to run his fingers over the figures on the photo, he accepted the folds from holding it to his chest.

Because if he looked long enough, he can imagine he took it.

If he looks long enough, the air conditioning in the hospital does little to combat the deadly combination of the Israeli heat and the nervous sweat as he walks straight past her room with the requested ice chips.

The numbers are all wrong and he realizes, sprinting back to his intended destination.

Sweat is pouring off her and he resolves to stop pitying himself immediately, profusely apologizing and offering the ice chips.

The next hour blurs by in her wails, his fretting, centimeter after centimeter, and then time stops.

He sees her face for the first time, the second love of his life, and everything changes.

The room is a cacophony of a woman’s exhausted cries and a newborn’s fresh wails, he even hears himself calling out reassurance, and vague instructions from the doctor. But he has never known peace like this.

Every chase, every arrest, the adrenaline and skill carried to him the belief that policework was his calling.

It’s not. Now he’s a father, and he’s happier than he knows what to do with.

His hands are meant to hold her, to wipe the sweat from her mother’s brow. His lips are to kiss both their foreheads, to whisper “I love you” as though no other combination of words exist.

His eyes are to well up with tears, looking at the two most beautiful women on the planet.

He supposed that didn’t change with the harsh reality he went back to.

The baby in the photo was still a beautiful girl, just older and unaccustomed to her father. She would still wail; the change was in the recognizable “Ima” that was formed.

And Ziva. Somewhere he knew, she existed, breathtakingly beautiful and endlessly loved.


End file.
